When the poor play a role

A statue of St. Francis of Assisi stands in a Chicago church. The new pope took the name of the Italian friar, who dedicated his life to the poor. (John J. Kim, Chicago Tribune)

At his first news conference, Pope Francis explained his choice of a pontifical name by recalling that, as his election drew near, a cardinal embraced him and said, "Don't forget about the poor."

St. Francis of Assisi was a champion of the down and out, noted Pope Francis, who will be installed Tuesday. The pope said his namesake was "the poor man who wanted a poor church," adding a wishful afterthought: "I'd like a poor church, for the poor." If such is the spiritual highway Pope Francis intends to travel, let me offer the Holy Father a suggestion, with all due respect: Keep in mind that St. Francis and his followers found that road full of potholes but wouldn't be detoured without a fight. Which is why I love the guy, too.

Part of St. Francis' story is well-known: The wastrel son of a successful merchant, he outdid even his drinking buddies in wanton excesses, according to his biographer and friend Thomas of Celano. Then Francis mended his ways and became a model of Christian rectitude, living among the homeless of 13th century Italy. With a childlike piety, he preached to birds and was loath to rebuke human failings. He tried to convert the Sultan of Egypt, who, impressed with his sincerity if not his message, allowed Francis to return to the Crusaders who were besieging his Muslim realm.

A less well-known chapter is the fate of Francis' vision, once the Catholic Church's hierarchy realized that his faith threatened their lifestyle. Four subsequent leaders of the Franciscans were burned at the stake by the Inquisition for failing to heed papal instructions to temper their preaching. Their crime was to emphasize New Testament passages recounting how Jesus' first followers lived frugally, rejecting the right to private property and holding their meager possessions in common.

Property, that was the problem. The church had lots — vast estates, magnificent cathedrals — and St. Francis wanted none. He wasn't a rebel, being too gentle a soul. He just didn't want to be encumbered by property; he gave up his inheritance, intending to live off the offerings of those to whom he preached. It's said he hated touching coins, accepting only food and drink. He was more likely to give away the rags he wore than to accept gifts of clothing.

He didn't expect that from other clergy — technically he wasn't one of them until agreeing to become a deacon. In his age, laymen weren't allowed to preach. But he did sense there was something wrong with the church. His route from rake to saint began when an icon of Christ said to him: "Francis, Francis, go and repair my house, which you can see is falling into ruins."

Initially, he took that to mean the church where he had his vision, and he offered to pay for its renovation. But later, not by words but deeds, he demonstrated that the Catholic Church wasn't meeting the spiritual hunger of many believers, for all its wealth. Or, maybe because of its riches.

His hunch was proved by the numbers who flocked to his ranks, like Francis many of them children of affluence. A booming economy had succeeded the Dark Ages, and repeatedly in history, prosperity prompts some to wonder if there isn't more to life than material success. It had happened before, when the Romans first flocked to Christianity. It inspired hippies of the 1960s to set up communes, similar to the Jerusalem lifestyle of the first Christians.

Francis never verbalized his followers' implicit criticism of the established church. He sought and got the pope's approval for his mission. Still, they weren't on the same page. Innocent III, the most powerful of the medieval popes, ruler of central Italy, wanted Francis' movement incorporated as a monastic order. Francis preferred something looser than a formal institution. By nature, he was a democrat. The church had a hierarchical table of organization: priests were on top of ordinary believers but below bishops, who were subordinate to the pope.

At first, the differences between Francis and the bishops were papered over by a compromise: Like other church organizations, the Franciscans would own property — just not in their own name. It would be held in trust by other church officials. Technically, Francis' order could still follow a rule of poverty. The female branch of his group was named "The Poor Sisters." His male followers were named "The Little Brothers."

But tensions were building by Francis' last years, as the papacy demanded that his movement be brought into line with the practices of other orders. After his death, the Franciscans split into two groups: the Observants, who accepted the papal blueprint; and the Spirituals, who insisted poverty was the path to piety.